Chapter Text
The reviews for the newest opera performed by the famous, and infamous, Black Sisters were splashed all over the entertainment section of the Daily Prophet. Hermione had glanced over them in the morning and hadn’t paid it much mind, having never been to the opera or even having considered it. But when she had gotten to the office and found Pansy leaning against her door, grinning, she knew she was in for it. Pansy had been drooling over the upcoming tour and she’d made several threats that she might take Hermione.
“Morning Pansy. You look like the cat that got the cream.”
“Oh I hope so, Granger.” Pansy waited until Hermione had unlocked her office and dropped her bag on her desk before she continued. Settling herself regally into one of the chairs in front of her desk, she slowly crossed one leg over the other and smirked. “So, you’re free tonight, yes?”
“No, actually.”
“Busy feeding your cat and doing some light reading?”
“As a matter of fact,” Hermione huffed, but Pansy didn’t let her finish.
“Hermione, love, you need to get a life. Come to the opera with me tonight.”
“I wouldn’t exactly classify going to the opera as having a life.”
“That’s because you’re a snob and you’ve never been.”
“If not going to the opera makes me a snob then you need to sort out your priorities.”
“Everyone who is anyone will be there, Granger.” Pansy leaned forward, fixing her with a look that let Hermione know she’d already lost this argument. “You’re on track to be the next Minister for Magic, but not if you keep hiding away from society. The public want to know the candidates.”
“I don’t like opera; going to that isn’t letting people get to know me.” Hermione shot back, pretending to be very interested in the paper in front of her. “Besides, they’re so long. By the time it finishes I’ll be asleep.”
“No you won’t. Not after the ‘hypnotic and erotic’ stylings of the Black Sisters. That’s a quote from the prophet by the way. If Skeeter is writing the word erotic you know it’s true.”
“Pansy…” Hermione sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose and shaking her head. “Why do you feel the need to fix my social life? I’m fine.”
“Because despite our school days, we’re friends now. You’re getting your ass all dolled up and you’re coming to the opera with me. I’m about to change your life.”
“Joy.”
“Stop being such a sour puss. Who knows, maybe you’ll see someone you like. Get some action finally.”
“Pansy…”
“I know it’s been a while, Granger,” Pansy smirked, standing from her seat. “Don’t tell me it wouldn’t feel good to let off a little steam. Be a little naughty…”
“Merlin, Pansy, get out.”
“So that’s a yes?”
“If you don’t get out right now, I’ll hex you into next week.”
“See you tonight then. I’ll pick you up at seven. Don’t be late.” Pansy left, grinning and Hermione groaned.
“I hope I don’t regret this.”
***
Hermione’s dress, a floor length green dress that Pansy had gifted her for her birthday with a smirk and a quip about slytherin colours suiting her, was turning heads. Pansy hadn’t been able to wipe the smirk from her lips since she’d picked Hermione up, wearing her own spectacular black dress that Hermione felt left her in the shadows. Still, people seemed to be admiring the effect as they walked through the foyer arm in arm.
“Draco,” Pansy greeted him with a smile and a kiss to the cheek. Grown from school, Draco looked smart and handsome in his suit. He bowed his head to Hermione. “How are you?”
“Well, Pansy, and yourself?”
“Can’t complain. Especially since I finally dragged Hermione here.”
“Dragged?” Draco appraised her with a small smile. “And here I was thinking that you had a respect for the finer things, Granger.”
“I can’t say that opera is to my tastes, but Pansy is persuasive.”
“I’m sure my mother and my aunts will be thrilled to hear that you are only mildly willing to watch them. They’re used to people flocking to them.”
“Of course…” Hermione blinked as the realisation washed over her. “I had forgotten that your mother reclaimed her maiden name, after the divorce.”
“Yes, well,” Draco shifted. “I believe Aunt Bella was particularly persuasive.”
“Oh I can’t wait until you see his Aunt,” Pansy smirked. Draco raised an eyebrow.
“Are you playing games again, Pansy?”
“No,” she replied with a faux innocence that didn’t fool anyone. “I just think Hermione will change her mind about opera after seeing them perform. They’re just that good.”
“So I’m told,” he rolled his eyes before fixing them on Hermione. “Well Granger? What do you think?”
“I think Pansy enjoys laughing at us all,” Hermione replied. “And I’m sure she’ll be right, which is irritating, but sadly something I’m having to get used to.”
Pansy laughed and Draco smirked.
“Well said. Then I’m sure I’ll see you afterwards. They’re intending to do the usual; drinks and a bit of music. Parkinson’s been invited; I extend the invitation to you too, if you do enjoy it.”
“Oh she will.” Pansy grinned. “And she’ll be there.”
“Oh will I?” Hermione raised an eyebrow. “I promised you the opera, not the evening.”
“When you see this, you’ll change your mind.”
Hermione only had chance to roll her eyes before the bell rang, signalling that they were to make their way to their seats. She followed Pansy to the box that she had, next to Draco’s, and settled in.
There was something strange in the air; anticipation seeping from the audience that was almost overpowering. Hermione shifted, glancing down and seeing familiar faces, all eagerly awaiting the show.
Perhaps Rita hadn’t been exaggerating, if everyone was so intensely ready for this. Hermione felt a thrill of nerves run through her. Perhaps she was about to be proven wrong, for once. It was not something she was used to, and the idea intrigued her.
“You ready, Granger?”
“Sure,” she shrugged, as though she weren’t also feeling the anticipation running over her skin like an electric current.
“Oh, I’m going to enjoy watching you get proved wrong.”
Hermione rolled her eyes as the lights dimmed and a hush fell in the theatre.
***
So she’d been wrong. She could admit that.
Red lights had warmed the stage as the curtain lifted, and Narcissa Black was revealed, inviting them all to join their tale. Hermione’s throat was dry as she watched the blonde haired woman curling her fingers as she sang. She drew them in, cool and commanding and then the song changed, and she was joined by Andromeda Black. The two brought the stage to life; Narcissa warmed to Andromeda’s presence and Hermione felt her heart soar as she watched.
Then Bellatrix appeared. The mood changed; suddenly wilder, more dangerous. Her presence was disruptive and yet the other two women clung to her until the song built, and built, and Hermione felt like she was alive with the energy. She gripped the edge of the box, leaning forward, drawn towards them.
Pansy gripped her arm and Hermione realised that she had half stood, as though she were going to climb over the edge and jump onto the stage. Heat flooded her cheeks and she sat back down. When she looked back to the stage, three pairs of eyes were fixed on her, as the number came to a close.
An hour later and Hermione was feeling like an emotional tornado and only Pansy’s arm, linked with hers as they left the box and headed to the VIP area, kept her from wanting to flee. She didn’t know why the performance had created such a fight or flight response, but she wasn’t used to being so off kilter.
“Are you alright?” Pansy muttered as they navigated the stairs. “I mean I knew you’d enjoy it but you look… odd.”
“Thank you, that’s so very helpful,” Hermione replied under her breath. “I feel odd. What the hell was that? Are they part Veela or something? Using magic?”
“No,” Pansy shook her head, her eyebrow lifting. “I mean they’re good but they’re not that good, Hermione.”
“Aren’t you the one who was drooling when you found out they were touring again after all these years?”
“Well yes but I’ve never tried to jump onto the stage for them.”
Hermione nudged her and scowled.
“I didn’t try to jump.”
“I mean that’s what it looked like to me.” Pansy cackled. “Come on. Let’s get inside. I want a drink and to find someone to warm my bed for the night.”
“Excuse me, if you’re leaving with someone else, why am I sticking around?”
“Because I’m not the only one who could get laid.”
Before Hermione could shoot a response back, Pansy had pulled open the door and dragged her inside.
Music played, quiet enough that the hum of conversation could still be heard above it. Pansy got them both drinks and when Draco found them making the rounds, she eagerly threw Hermione under the bus.
“Well, Draco, looks like I was right. Hermione thoroughly enjoyed the performance, didn’t you?”
“You know, Pansy, you can go off people.” Hermione said dryly, before turning her attention to Draco. “It was an excellent performance. Please let your family know.”
“You can tell them yourself; they should be here any minute.”
Hermione’s heart tried to leap out of her throat, and her stomach clenched. She took a gulp of her drink and tried to calm her nerves. As a rational woman, she had no idea why the thought of meeting those women had such an effect on her. Sure, she had always preferred the fairer sex, but she had never reacted to someone like this before, let alone three enthralling, different women all at the same time. She found herself eyeing the door, barely paying attention to the conversation, the same anticipation from the theatre somehow magnified here.
“Draco,” a cool purr came from behind her and she started, turning. Narcissa Black was standing there, her eyes scanning Hermione before returning her attention to her son. “Pansy. You have a new friend.”
“Not new, Ms. Black,” Pansy smiled politely; the best behaved that Hermione had seen her. “She’s just not one for social gatherings. May I introduce you to Hermione Granger.”
“Well, Miss Granger,” Narcissa extended her elegant hand and Hermione met it; cool fingers sliding over her heated ones. “A pleasure to meet you.”
“The pleasure is all mine,” Hermione murmured, her eyes fixed on the other woman, aware that she was being studied and appraised like a fine piece of art. Goodness, and this was only one of the sisters. What was it like to be in a room with all three of them? She wasn’t sure she’d survive finding out. “I enjoyed your performance.”
“Yes,” Narcissa replied before releasing her hand. The statement sent another flush of colour through Hermione; as though the woman knew exactly how Hermione’s entire body had reacted to the show. “Draco, your Aunts were wondering if you would be joining us for dinner, this weekend?”
“Not this weekend, mother,” Draco apologised. “I’m afraid I have urgent business.”
“Well, we shall find other ways to entertain ourselves, I’m sure.” Narcissa’s eyes flicked back to Hermione and she offered her a light smirk.
“Where are they, anyway?” Draco asked. “I know Bella likes to make an entrance but I haven’t seen Aunt Andy yet.”
“Oh, Bella needed help with her outfit,” Narcissa waved her hand dismissively. “I got bored of waiting for them.”
“Of course. Shall I get you a drink?”
“I did raise you well,” she smiled and nodded. Draco excused himself. “Well, Pansy, this is the first time that I’ve seen you bring a date to our events. Usually you prefer to arrive alone and leave in company.”
“Oh I still intend to leave with company,” Pansy grinned. “But I’m trying to make sure that Hermione does too. She’s not my date; more a helpless case in need of a date.”
“Pansy!” Hermione glared.
“Don’t worry dear,” Narcissa leaned into Hermione and lowered her voice, as her breath brushed her ear and Hermione’s complaints died on her lips. “She isn’t half as scandalous as my sister.”
“Which one?” Hermione asked. Narcissa chuckled.
“Well, well… you really know nothing about our family, do you?”
“Not as much as everyone else, apparently.” Hermione glanced at Pansy who was watching the exchange with a raised eyebrow.
“I think I’m going to go and get a drink with Draco.” Pansy waited until Narcissa had acknowledged her before slipping away, sending a wink at Hermione that left her feeling like she’d been set up.
“Well dear,” Narcissa said, drawing Hermione’s attention back to her. “Perhaps I should introduce you to my sisters. That way, you’ll see exactly what I mean.”
“I’m starting to get the impression that you and your family are forces to be reckoned with.”
“Only just?” Narcissa’s arm brushed against Hermione’s and a shiver ran through her. “Oh my dear… you have no idea.”
“Well,” Hermione swallowed. “Then I look forward to finding out.”
The chatter around them died suddenly, and Narcissa’s eyes were drawn away, pulling Hermione’s focus too. Through the door came Andromeda Black, dressed in a rich plum coloured dress that made her look like some form of Greek Goddess. She smiled around at the people in the VIP room and then caught the eye of her sister.
Her gaze slid to Hermione, and warmth spread through her. Andromeda walked towards them gracefully, stopping and giving her sister a peck on the cheek.
“Sister, Bella is on her way.” Her eyes slid to Hermione again. “Who is your friend?”
“Andy, meet Hermione Granger. A new friend of the opera.”
“Charmed,” Andromeda smiled, leaning in and kissing Hermione’s cheek, her hand resting on her waist. Hermione blinked in surprise, but returned the gesture. “Bella is going to love your dress.”
“Just what I was thinking, sister,” Narcissa grinned. “Hermione, wherever did you get it?”
“It was a gift from Pansy, for my birthday last month.”
“Well, we’re happy to give you an opportunity to wear it.”
“Oh yes,” Narcissa smirked. “A dress like that, on a woman like you, should be seen.”
“Thank you,” Hermione finished her drink and slid it onto the nearby table. She pressed her hand against her stomach for a moment, feeling it churning with a mix of emotions. “I think you both look beautiful.”
“Oh, charming too,” Andromeda cooed. “Tell me, Hermione, what do you do?”
“I work at the Ministry.”
“Ah,” Narcissa’s eyes lit. “Now I remember Pansy telling us about you. The bright witch in line to be the next Minister, am I correct?”
“Yes,” Hermione replied. “Although Pansy really shouldn’t go around telling everyone that. It’ll be terribly embarrassing if I lose.”
“Do you think that’s a possibility?” Andromeda asked.
Hermione studied them both and then drew herself up, angling her chin as her confidence returned under the guise of her work mask.
“No.”
“Well, such confidence.” Andy mused.
“Pansy said that you were intelligent enough,” Narcissa added. “Brains, beauty and that kind of confidence? I should think that the magical world would be lucky to have such a Minister.”
Hermione blushed.
“Thank you.”
Both sisters smiled and then their heads turned, a fraction of a second before the conversation died again and Hermione’s gaze found Bellatrix Black. Dressed in a suit jacket and trousers, a V of creamy skin was visible from her neck to a point below her breasts, the curve of which were visible against the line of black fabric. Hermione swallowed.
The woman strode through the crowd, head held high, straight for her sisters. The air crackled.
“There you are; abandoned by my own sisters.” Bellatrix Black purred huskily, before her eyes slid over Hermione. “Although with good reason I see.”
Her eyes burned Hermione’s skin. Hell, her insides were on fire.
“Bella, this is Hermione Granger, a friend of Pansy’s.”
“Well, Hermione Granger,” Bellatrix leaned in and Hermione felt like a deer in headlights as red lips brushed against her cheek. “What a delight to meet you.”
Hermione swallowed hard as the other woman transferred to the other side of her face and kissed her there too.
“You too,” Hermione breathed. “I… enjoyed the show.”
“Hermione’s new to the opera, Bella,” Narcissa smirked. “I believe we’re her first. Is that right, Hermione?”
Hermione nodded.
“Well,” Bellatrix grinned lazily, lifting her hand and running her thumb over Hermione’s cheekbone, cleaning it of lipstick. Hermione felt her knees shake. “I hope we’ve enticed you to enjoy more?”
“Yes,” Hermione husked, then cleared her throat. “Ah, yes. I think I shall have to come again, if that is what all opera is like.”
“Not all opera,” Andy smiled, sliding her arm around Narcissa’s waist. “Just ours.”
“Then I shall have to keep an eye out for your next performance.”
“Well,” Bellatrix’s eyes trailed over her again, “perhaps we can become friends. We don’t mind giving private performances to friends, do we?”
“Not at all.” The other two hummed in chorus.
“Draco can’t join us for dinner this weekend,” Narcissa told her sisters. “Perhaps we should invite the future Minister. I’m sure we could find something to satisfy her appetite.”
Hermione was almost certain that she had died. Or was dreaming. She must have fallen asleep during the opera because she was almost one hundred percent certain that all three women were flirting with her. And flirting was putting it mildly.
“How would you like that, Hermione?” Andromeda asked. “Would you like us to have you for dinner?”
Hermione was definitely dead.
“That sounds… enjoyable.”
Bellatrix’s chuckle was rich and dangerous; Hermione understood what Narcissa had been saying about her earlier. Bellatrix was clearly different from her sisters in more ways than they were from each other.
“Until then, Hermione.” She took her hand and lifted it, only to turn it and place a kiss on her wrist. Hermione thought she must have been able to practically taste her heartbeat. “We’ll send a car for you.”
With that, one by one, the sisters disappeared from her side, each kissing her cheek until she felt completely weak.
Pansy rejoined her minutes later.
“Pansy,” Hermione said through gritted teeth. “What the hell did you get me into?”
Pansy just grinned.